John x
by thetravelinglemon
Summary: Sherlock would always be his true love, but that didn't mean he didn't love Mary, just in a different way. Johnlock, John/Mary. Character death. I don't know why all my Johnlock fics end unhappily, sorry.


**I don't know why I wrote this – it just happened – sorry for the sadness. Though I do think this would be OOC for Sherlock to take John for granted that badly.**

It was barely noticeable at first: just little things that could be brushed off as coincidences – he stayed out later, he forgot to text, he didn't get milk. These things weren't uncommon, though they had become rare when the pair had first got together, as Sherlock had apparently made an effort to keep John happy. Now things were back to the way they used to be. John brushed them off, thinking he was just being picky, so things continued as normal.

John didn't like to admit it, but things got worse; Sherlock stayed out all night (at least once a week, often more if he had a case), he forgot to tell John about a case (a few actually), and he did an experiment with John's favourite jumper (without asking).

John tried to avoid thinking about it: he knew his partner was thoughtless sometimes, and tried to remind himself that he couldn't _always_ be Sherlock's priority. But it hurt. It hurt like hell, because it made him feel like Sherlock didn't care, and John couldn't talk to him about it because Sherlock would just apologise and promise to change, but not actually do anything. But John did his best to convince himself that he was imagining it, that he was being selfish, that it was only (lots of) little things, and that it would pass. It's somewhat unlikely that John actually believed this, but he tried to.

He spent hours making dinner, buying small presents, listening to Sherlock's rambling, clearing his partner's mess in an effort to rekindle their relationship. He lost any time to himself: between work and Sherlock, he had no time for anything else. Every night he'd fall into bed tired out, not just physically, but tired in spirit; tired of the pointless, directionless life he was leading, all to please a man who didn't seem to care, or even notice.

Sherlock carried on in his usual manner, expecting everything and not realising that he had no right to expect everything from his lover. He noticed that John always seemed tired, but as there were cases to solve and experiments to conduct, he paid it little attention. He didn't realise that he swayed between a tendency to either take John for granted, or forget his existence, though John noticed, as well as Mrs Hudson, Mycroft and Lestrade.

They knew that John would do anything for Sherlock, but they saw the distance between them growing, and watched, pained, as John blamed himself and Sherlock continued on oblivious. Mycroft dropped a few hints, but Sherlock brushed them aside in the same way that he brushed aside everything Mycroft said. Lestrade dropped hints, but rather than suggesting Sherlock should change, like Mycroft did, Greg commented on how great John was and how lucky Sherlock was etc. It only seemed to make Sherlock a little possessive and even jealous for the next day or two. Mrs Hudson, though not wanting to interfere, did her best to give John company, attention and affection, for which he was grateful.

When a month had passed without any love-making, or even Sherlock saying 'I love you' (which he usually did, at most, about once a week), and he had been out for three days, something inside John simply gave up the ghost. He picked up his mobile and dialled.

"Hello?"

"Greg."

"Hi John, you okay?"

"Not really, I was wondering if I could stay at your place for a bit, sorry if it's awkward..."

"Course you can mate, as long as you don't mind sleeping on the sofa."

"Of course not, thanks. I'll be round in an hour or two if that's okay?"

"Sure...urm...is there a reason for this?"

"I'd rather talk face to face"

"Yea, of course, see you then."

"See you. Thanks."

John hung up and sat on the sofa for ten minutes, his head in his hands, thinking.

At that moment Sherlock burst in, went into his bedroom, re-entered the living room carrying a book, and left again. He didn't so much as glance to where he must have known John was sitting.

John's heart shattered and his self-control snapped. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he took a moment to sob uncontrollably, giving way to his feelings of abandonment and pain. After a minute he checked himself, sighed, wiped his face, and stood, going into his bedroom to fetch his suitcase.

Once he'd packed his things, he momentarily gave way to tears, before sitting down at the desk to write a note.

_Dear Sherlock,_

_I've left because I can't cope with the way you've been treating me. I tried to make myself believe it was my fault, but that didn't work._

_You've tired of me, something I've long been afraid would happen, even though you swore otherwise._

_I'm returning the ring you gave me – though we weren't married, I still can't keep it._

_Please respect me enough not to search for me, or ask Mycroft to tell you where I am. If I come back, it will be of my own free will. However, I'll be happy to email or text you – maybe we can sort things out._

_John x_

John placed the ring and letter on the kitchen table, and slid another letter under Mrs Hudson's door, before leaving. He hailed a cab to take him to Greg's, where he intended to stay for a good while.

Unfortunately, no-one was really surprised that Sherlock took a couple of days to notice John's absence, and consequently, the letter and ring. When John asked Mycroft how Sherlock had reacted, he was told that the reaction was a simple frown, followed by 30 minutes deep thought, and nothing else.

Time passed, and John heard nothing from Sherlock, or from his friends about Sherlock – he seemed unaffected, unchanged. So John moved out of Greg's flat, got a job working in A&E (more exciting than a surgery), occasionally helped Greg with a case, and basically got a life. When Greg's family visited, John was invited over, and he struck up an acquaintance with Greg's cousin Mary. They began seeing each other and, after 8 months, moved in together.

Two weeks later, John heard of Sherlock's death from a cocaine overdose, exactly a year after he'd left.

John went to the funeral, having a soldier's respect for the dead, and was able to speak to his old friends, but it was obvious he wasn't needed anymore: Greg and Mycroft were comforting each other, and Molly and Mrs Hudson were comforting each other. John didn't stay long after the service.

He felt a slight twinge of guilt, and a bigger one of sadness that things had ended up the way they did. He didn't regret his actions, only the fact that he'd been forced to take them.

Sherlock would always be his true love, but that didn't mean he didn't love Mary, just in a different way.

**And I leave it up to you to decide whether Sherlock was inwardly shattered by grief when John left, or if he didn't care.**

**Wow, this is long – I didn't realise it was this long.**

**Feel free to complain that this is depressing – it upsets me, and I'd be very annoyed if anyone else wrote this. I'm sort of annoyed that I wrote this!**


End file.
